


Under These Skies

by neverfaltering



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Brooklyn, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Steve, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sick Steve, Stucky - Freeform, injuries, set around 1940's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:24:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4731059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverfaltering/pseuds/neverfaltering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve doesn't come home for dinner one day, so Bucky searches Brooklyn for him. He doesn't exactly find him in the best shape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under These Skies

**Author's Note:**

> hello im here again enjoy thank u

The thing with Bucky is that he’s a huge _worrier_.

 

He worries when he’s running late, he worries when he’s early, he worries about his life right now and his future and his family and finance and his rent and his cat and how it only eats the expensive cat food and himself and how he’s possible a disgrace to the family and how Rebecca’s at school and how it’s costly and how it’s going to fit in with the rest of his budget and how he can’t cook so how is he supposed to live off takeaway forever but mostly?

 

He worries about _Steve._

Steve, who embodies happiness and light and kindness. Steve, who is always the one to pull out Bucky out of his daily crises. Steve, who people take advantage over because the kid’s small and skinny for his age.

 

It’s because of all this that there’s a portion in the back of his mind that constantly goes, _where is Steve how is he doing did he eat yet or is he starving somewhere oh no what if he fainted what if no one helps him out what if they leave him there hopeless when will he come home what if-_

And it’s not because he doubts Steve’s ability to stand up for himself- because deep down he knows that this kid is amazing and this kid is noble and stood up for a complete stranger and came home with an arm bent in a way it shouldn’t have.

 

It’s because as much as Steve loves people and protects them, Bucky knows he has absolutely no sense of care for _himself_.

Steve’ll get a cold and will insist he’s fine, _it’s just a cold_ , he’s been through a lot worse. And Bucky knows his past with medical issues so he doesn’t push and only succeeds through glaring at him before going to make soup.

And then Steve will get a cold _and_ a cough _and_ a throat infection and Bucky will have to repeat everything he says because it turns out his ears are also closed due to the rest of his functions malfunctioning.

And still, Steve will profusely refuse to skip out on work and will proceed to blow his nose and cough when he thinks Bucky’s not looking, but what he doesn’t know is that Bucky’s pretty much always on the lookout. Except when he’s asleep, but even then, he’s pretty sure his dreams tend to incorporate Steve’s sniffles.

 

So naturally, when Steve doesn’t come home one day after work, Bucky panics.

 

His way of panicking is strange, actually, because to an outsider it doesn’t look like he’s panicking at all. In fact, it took Steve a good three months to find out that that was Bucky’s way of breaking down and not meditating.

 

That’s how Bucky does it. He sits at his usual spot on the couch, which is worn and ripped from places but the best place to panic because it’s still comfortable and makes you want to stay there forever. He sits there and stares blankly at the wall by the fireplace and just _sits there_. His mind races and his thoughts are blurry and fast and tiring to dwell about so he just sits and panics inwardly while his outward demeanor looks much like he’s deeply thinking about the philosophies of life and not on the verge of crying.

 

He thinks about Steve and imagines horrible situations and keeps telling himself that this is Brooklyn, where streets are busy and maybe he’s running late or maybe he stopped to help an elderly lady with her groceries but then saw another elderly person and helped them with their groceries and then soon became Brooklyn’s Noble Human Who Has No Sense Of Care For Himself because that has all happened before and Bucky had to drag him away before he caught Hypothermia because a blizzard had touched down in the city.

 

Bucky keeps reassuring himself like this for a good two hours after he should have been home.

 

When his mind conjures an image of Steve somewhere on a train to Siberia being kidnapped, he begins to inch himself off his too-comfortable sofa, grabbing his coat off the hook and tying the laces on his boots, because Steve Rogers is out there and Steve Rogers is late for dinner and Bucky Barnes will bring him home and yell at him but only after he makes sure that he’s very much alive and doing well.

 

He pets his cat and heaves open the door, a flurry of white snow barging in, uninvited. His boots make a _clomp clomp clomp_ sound as he walks, and Steve unrelentlessly teases him for it, _because I could hear ya a mile away_. He looks over his street. It would have been a nice winter sight if Steve weren’t lost somewhere out there. Now it just  looks horrible.

 

He walks towards the newspaper publishing office Steve works at as an illustrator where he publishes comics and paintings and drawings and just wonderful things, really. Bucky always gets to see the stuff that goes out in the newspapers a week before the rest of the world, because Steve is a wonderful best friend and asks Bucky for advice on what to fix even though Bucky knows pretty much nothing about art. But Steve is always unsure of his work, no matter how many times Bucky tells him his work is amazing and it’s being published to the people in New York, after all. Steve is always tweaking things until the last minute anyways, because _it’s not what I imagined it to be like, Buck_. To which Bucky usually rolls his eyes at and then says something like, _maybe change the colors on this part here,_ even though it’s perfect the way it is but it gives Steve the critique he so desperately wants from Bucky. To Bucky there really is no problem, but it helps Steve out, so Bucky voices his unhelpful and unnecessary opinion as much as needed.

 

He walks inside the office, bringing in winter with him, which earns him a look from the receptionist. “Hi, how can I help you?” she asks, voice chipper.

 

“Hey, I’m looking for my friend, Steve Rogers? He works here as uh, an artist and he didn’t come home and it’s been two hours.” Bucky scratches the back of his neck.

 

“Ah, yes, Steve. Brilliant man. He left a while ago, about two hours ago, actually.” She looks out the window and a flash of panic suddenly overcomes her features. Bucky sort of wants to cry. “I hope you find him,” she says quietly.

Bucky leaves without a word, his manners forgotten with the pouring snow.

\--

 

He walks along the streets of Brooklyn, visiting all the places Steve patrols around on his free days. His boots go _clomp clomp clomp_ but he almost doesn’t notice with his heartbeat pounding so loudly in his chest. He asks the shop owners about Steve, since of course Steve is friends with every single one, but none of them give Bucky the answer he so desperately seeks, _yeah, your friend Steve is right here in the shop! He’s drinking coffee and I asked him to come in because it’s so cold out._

 

He peeks into the alleyways and hopes that none of them holds the sight he looks for, but one alley in particular seems off.

 

Alleys are in general, not Bucky’s favorite place. The dangerous people of town lurk there, sending a glare to whoever passes by. So when he peeks into this alleyway and feels a crippling sense of fear trickle up his spine, his first instinct is _run run run run run_. But his mind decides that he’s panicked enough for one day, so his next thoughts are more like, _Steve Steve Steve Steve Steve_. He steps gingerly onto the pavement, which is cracked and littered with ancient cigar stubs, almost completely covered in white. He walks directly straight, making no eye contact. It’s as he’s doing this that he suddenly hears a quiet, “Bucky...”

 

It’s his imagination, he’s certain. It’s a cruel, cruel thing. It’s playing tricks on his mind.

 

His boots go clomp clomp clomp and then hears it again, and it’s sort of ghostly.

“Bucky.”

It’s distant but it’s clear, and he knows that it’s meant for _him_ , and he knows that Steve is out there, in a terrible, terrible situation.

 

\--

It doesn’t take him long to locate Steve after that. He hears his voice one last time, and he knows it’s the last time because it’s laced with a finality. Bucky’s heart clenches in his chest because Steve _knew_ he would come and he’s out there waiting for _who knows_ how long.

 

He shuffles around a corner and a sight comes in view and there’s blond hair somewhere under all the white piling on top-

 

And Steve is no longer the shining boy with his golden hair that glints in the sun like a beacon at sea. Steve is no longer the beholder of the smile that could put the beacon's light to shame.

And.

Bucky should probably stop comparing Steve to a beacon because he's sort of (pretty much, kind of) dying.

"Steve? Steve," Bucky says.

"Hi,” he grins weakly up at Bucky.

"What happened?"

"T-The  us-sual," and Steve is shivering because his thin coat is no match for this weather

Bucky's heart is hammering because he doesn't know what that means _at all_ , but right now Steve is going to die of the cold if Bucky doesn't get him out of here quick. He takes off his jacket and places it around Steve's shoulders, adrenaline keeping his own blood warm.

Steve doesn't protest, and it's a clear sign of how terrible he's feeling if he doesn't put up a fight. He simply leans into the warmth and closes his eyes. He seems content to die here. Bucky is internally yelling at him.

"How?" he urges, because Steve is not going to budge if Bucky won't force it out of him.

"Bigger guy, beat me up," comes the answer. Bucky's knows he's not mistaken when he detects disappointment in Steve's answer.

"You had 'em on the ropes, didn't you?" Bucky tries.

"Pretty much," Steve replies, his eyes still closed. He sounds as if he's having trouble breathing, his sentences broken up in parts.

"Shouldn't have done that," Bucky quietly.

"They were going to get him if not me, Bucky," and it sounds like the end of the conversation. So he shakes his head instead, because this is _Steve Rogers_ , The Noble Human of the City. Bucky doesn't know who _him_ is, but he strongly suspects it was a civilian at the hands of the person who beat Steve up.

"Let's get you up," Bucky places Steve's arms over his own shoulders, pulling him up.

"Buck...,"and it sounds pained.

Bucky looks over to his face where his face is contorted into a grimace and-

 

Bucky thought his injuries were limited to his face.

 

"Where," Bucky urges him.

Steve touches a hand to his ribs, wincing at the touch.

"Alright, alright,” Bucky assures him, even though Steve seems not too bad but Bucky can feel _his own_ hands shaking as he speaks, "i'll get you out of this, Stevie, dontcha worry,"

"Never did," and Steve is smiling, a little bit. To Bucky they just sound like Famous Last Words, so he resolves to not make much more conversation.

Bucky places Steve's arm over his own shoulder again, this time as gently as he can. Still, he can feel Steve flinch at the touch.

"You can do this, come on now," Bucky urges. He tries to walk as slowly as possible, but Steve is still struggling and Bucky resists the urge to pick him up and  _carry_ him back to the apartment. He knows Steve's self-esteem must be pretty low since he doesn't like to be be the damsel in distress, rather he likes to be the one saving the damsel from distressing in the _first place_.

So he goes along with it, letting Steve take as much time as he needs because he's got all day, really. And the cold is doing nothing to him, in fact he feels oddly warm.

 

They walk and walk until their apartment building is in clear sight and Bucky can hear a relieved sigh from next to him. They walk up the stairs and then their door is right in front of them.

Steve lets go of Bucky and twists open the door knob, walking slowly but steadily over to the couch. He collapses with a sigh that sounds like he's not moving for the next twenty years. Bucky's never throwing that old sofa out.

 

He rushes into the kitchen for ice for Steve's ribs but then remembers Steve just came out of a New York blizzard and is probably really cold so he leaves the fridge door open and gets the fireplace burning.

When he's done that he remembers Steve is also _bleeding_ (anything more, Steve?) so he flies to the bathroom for antiseptic before knocking into the open fridge door face-first. He falls to the floor and sits there for a minute, trying to stop his head from spinning.

He hears a muffled noise that vaguely sounds like laughing. He wills himself to get up and looks to where a very okay-looking Steve sits, trying to stifle his laughter. Steve finally cracks when Bucky looks at him, and he full-on laughs into the couch. Bucky can feel his lips forming a smile, but he's going to pretend to be mad. He glares at Steve, who still hasn't recovered from Bucky _hilariously_  getting a bruise from the fridge door which he left open because he was trying to help out _Steve_ , thank you very much.

He stalks over his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He can hear Steve stop laughing, and for a few minutes there's no sound at all, and then his door is being opened and Steve is trudging slowly and Bucky feels kind of bad.

"Hey, I didn't mean to," Steve begins softly. "It's just, you're so worried and I'm completely fine, other than this you see," he points towards his ribs, “which I’ll get checked out tomorrow.”

Bucky looks at Steve unconvincingly, which makes him come sit next to Bucky on the bed.

"Thanks, though, for getting me out," Steve says quietly. "Don't know how long I'd be there if you didn't come."

"I'm just glad I didn't find you in a ditch somewhere," Bucky says lightly.

"Eh. The dudes don't think it's such a flattering place to beat a little guy up. Too dark," Steve jokes, and Bucky's just really, really glad he's okay.

"How'd you know that was me?" Bucky asks.

" _Clomp Clomp Clomp_ ," Steve mimics, a small smile on his lips. "Don’t ever get rid of those."

 

Bucky never does.

**Author's Note:**

> please comment feedback or anything!!! it keeps me going B)
> 
> thank you for reading!!


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